7:14 am

it’s another day, another moment of silence

before waking up, again to the endless noise below

that rattles, and shakes the sand from your eyes

in a metropolitan daze, as you tumble out of sleep.

vulnerably stretching out in submission to the day

you become a drifter, a vagrant in those early 

waking moments, restrained by the tightly tucked

sheets you stayed up all night changing

just waiting, for nothing and you do it so well. 

because you’re indelible to these feathers that line the quilts 

of your duvet, like a pacifier in your mouth, hanging on your lips 

as the sun’s white heat strips down your hallowed walls, 

forcing those heavy eyelids to open, just for a second.

you yawn, contemplating other ways out of waking 

before coming to, then sighing; 

as you let your legs hang over the side of the bed.